Everything Wrong with the ESB
by Kat-Arva
Summary: Things could have gone differently. S3 final CB


**Changing time**

'...another chance. I will be waiting on the Empire State Building by noon. If not, my heart will be forever closed to you.'

He wanted to say seven, but then remembered the call with Italians. Well. A change of time shouldn't really change anything. The hopeless romantic she was Blair would get up on that skyscraper if only to tell how much he was hated. But then it would mean she cares. He needed nothing more.

She wasn't going to show up. All this talk about 'closing his heart forever' was rubbish - he didn't have a heart. If he did they would not be in this mess.

And no 'Affair to Remember' role-play changed it. (Although maybe she had to admit – it was a nice touch. And if she wanted to reconcile with the love of her life after something as terrible as he did to her she would pull something like that.) But he was not the love of her life, she most certainly didn't write Mrs. Bass in some of her notebooks and he would be standing alone with his stupid peonies on the stupid rooftop.

...It did not explain why she was on top of wretched building a half hour late. She looked around - there were tourists and guards and random people. New-York was alive below her and the sky was bright with glowing sun but not as bright as peonies (she knew it) Chuck was holding.

She just could not believe him.

He said 'by noon' and she knew about his business call later. Cary waited till midnight but the Basstard was no movie hero and they already established he valued business more than her. Blair was prepared to see no Chuck and with a light heart go on about her day – she had a date with Cameron. And then when he would come to grovel (again) she would tell him that he blew his own 'last chance'.

But here he stood, freshly shaved and brushed, eyes sober and piercing.

Urgh, that motherchucker.

* * *

 **Sleeping on it**

He knew he was drunk. Or hangover. His throat was dry, head pounding and eyes watering. It did not matter that he only drank two glasses. Despite his iron stomach when it came to scotch, no one can really take precautions from the heartache and pain life brought.

Jenny on the other hand was a step away from being wasted like a total lightweight she was. But in her stare was the same pain and from all the unpleasant experience he knew that this kind of suffering made you do really stupid things. From the way she looked at him – little Jenny was about to start.

He didn't care. Not really, because if... he couldn't bring himself to even think her name, but if she didn't want him then he... After all she did the same with some men he wasn't going to think about.

But... that was in high school. Back when she rode on the wave of hurt and denial. This was real life. And every little mistake not only ended up on Gossip Girl but...

Wait. Did that gossiping Bitch know about little J whereabouts? About Nate not being there?

Because really, just being in the same building with someone gave her ideas. So maybe those ideas would hurt her but if she didn't want him what good would it make? Only give her reason to despise him more.

Jenny was moving closer and through the painful haze he got a clear look at her for the first time that evening. The girl was a mess and not attractive one at that. Even at her best she was so not his type - scrawny legs and arms, no ass and no breasts, bitchy but not the way he liked. He didn't blame Nate for wanting nothing to do with little Brooklyn.

She needed to forget something and he was... used to be good at that. Not anymore. After all, just tonight he had been preparing to give himself up for one girl. Forever. Maybe that was what they called growing up? If so, then Waldorf was not as mature as she pretended to be.

"Ok, little J, what about you get some sleep?" His voice was croaked and she blinked in confusion. He swallowed, "you're going to have a hell of a hangover, so you'd better sleep on it".

It didn't seem like she really understood but Jenny nodded anyway.

"Alright, let's get you to the sofa".

Maybe he should've left her where she was but he could not let anyone sleep on the bed that belonged to Blair. They chose it together. They christened it they... he just couldn't.

Besides, it was a perfectly nice sofa. Chuck would know spending a night or two there.

Leaving Jenny to sleep he returned to bedroom and stared at ring box. Maybe the proposal wouldn't solve anything. Maybe someone like him didn't deserve a happily even after.

And maybe he just needed to sleep on it.

* * *

 **Speed dialing it**

She knew there was no way to go to Chuck now. She could not leave Dorota and go save her love life when her maid was about to bring a child to the world. She thought for a second about Chuck standing on another rooftop alone a heartbroken and speed dialed him.

Seemed like their love life would have to solve itself in a hospital corridor.

He was looking at the sky thinking. She was never late to something important. Never.

Blair didn't even let herself be distracted by sex when something depended on her appearance (and that was one distraction she adored).

Maybe that's it. Maybe he wasn't important enough anymore.

He looked through fence. Another rooftop. Another failure. He knew he wouldn't be tempted by abyss but the presence of a barrier calmed. They installed it after one too many suicides and he was glad. Maybe he should put something like that on Empire.

Just then his phone started to ring with the little song she found funny and put in as her call sound. Suddenly the doubt hit him with double force - maybe she was being kind (in her own way) and telling him not to wait?

But even in some alternative reality it was too kind for Blair Waldorf. It must have been something else. He resigned himself to pressing little green sign but in his nervousness hit the wrong button. The call went to voicemail.

'Chuck… Dorota is in labor. We are on the way to Lennox Hill. Please come. Love you.'

His breath got stuck. He didn't remember the last time she said these words to him. That love you. And now she just added it without thinking. Naturally.

His brain didn't want to process anything beyond her 'love you' so he had to listen to the message again. Dorota… labor… hospital…

He hurriedly made his way to the waiting limo.

'Lennox Hill, Arthur. And try to get there fast'.

In his pocket laid a little box. It was soft outside, tiny and heavy. It held so much inside and… He might just give it to her today.


End file.
